


Fic: What Price Help?

by iamisaac



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dubious Consent, Forced Relationship, Humiliation, M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 01:31:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3100031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamisaac/pseuds/iamisaac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry needs to learn how to cope with anything that might happen to him. Snape is the obvious choice to help him - but will Snape be prepared to help Harry? And at what cost?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fic: What Price Help?

**Author's Note:**

> My beta is, to be fair, the best in the entire universe. No better betas can be found even in other galaxies, and I love her dearly.

_**Fic: What Price Help?**_  
Pairing: Severus/Harry  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings/Content Info: [Harry still at school (over 16, so of legal age in the UK), dub-con, bdsm, violence, humiliation]  
Summary: Harry needs to learn how to cope with anything that might happen to him. Snape is the obvious choice to help him - but will Snape be prepared to help Harry? And at what cost?  
Disclaimer: The world of HP and its characters belongs to Rowling. The author of this fic has borrowed them for the purposes of storytelling. No profit was or will be made.  
Word count: ~3,500  
Author Notes: My beta is, to be fair, the best in the entire universe. No better betas can be found even in other galaxies, and I love her dearly.

 

 

 

 

"There is only one man who can teach you the skills you need, Harry."

Harry knew, from the tone of voice in which Professor McGonagall said the words, of whom she spoke. "Professor!"

"You need him, Harry. If you are to defeat Voldemort, you need the help of Professor Snape." McGonagall paused. "Professor Dumbledore would say the same if he were here. I know, with the past history between you, that this will not be easy - for either of you. But you are are participating in a war. You must learn to face everything that comes your way, and it may not - in face it certainly will not - be easy. You need to use any possible advantage you can find, both in magical and mental preparation. You will need to swallow your pride. Professor Snape may not be pleased by the thought of aiding you in this particular fashion, but it is up to you to persuade him.

"Whatever it takes, Harry. Remember that. Whatever it takes."

 

 

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"Professor."

Snape moved to close the door in Harry's face, but Harry - reactions quickened from Quidditch practice - got his foot in the way, swiftly followed by his hand.

 

"I did not ask you to come here, Potter," Severus hissed. "How dare you visit my private rooms without permission?"

Harry looked into his sour face and thought about how much he disliked the man. "Professor, I need your help."

 

 

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"Please," Harry said.

Snape's face contorted. "I said on your knees, Potter."

Harry, feeling his hatred like a living thing, dropped down in front of the object of his fury. "Please," he said again, the word catching in his throat as he spoke.

"Do you think," Severus asked, voice soft and deadly, "that Death-Eaters will not demand as much from you? Do you think that they do not want to see The Boy Who Lived cringing at their feet? What are you expecting, Potter? That they will feed your ego in the same way you've accepted all your life?" His lip curled in a sneer. "How much you have to learn."

Harry thought of the years of being bullied by Dudley, of waiting for Uncle Vernon to turn on him with words or blows. Ego feeding? He expected that the Death-Eaters might feed his ego in precisely the same fashion - through abuse. Something, incidentally, Snape was all too good at himself.

"Sorry, Sir." The words were forced out.

"I begin to think you might be capable of learning, Potter."

 

 

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"Today we will start with a simple lesson." The door slammed behind Harry: a wordless spell from Snape, it seemed. The next spell was more worrying. "Expelliamus." Harry's wand soared in an arc to land in Professor Snape's grip. "And now, you are powerless. Remember, every servant of the Dark Lord will want you powerless."

"Yes, Professor."

"Powerless, you will be in their control. You will be forced to obey their every command, every..." Snape smiled humourlessly, "whim. Do you think you can manage that, Potter? When you fail, even, to complete a class without impertinence to your superiors?"

How much Harry longed to contradict that final word - 'superiors'. He focussed on McGonagall's words: "Whatever it takes". Nails digging into his palms, he said, merely,

"I'll try, Sir."

"Good."

 

 

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"Strip, Potter." Reluctantly, Harry disrobed, draping his clothes over a nearby chair. When he was down to his pants, he hesitated, but Snape's intent was made clear. "Everything."

"Yes, Sir."

When he was naked, Snape walked around him, prowling in a circle which made Harry more nervous than he wished to acknowledge. And Snape's next move was unexpected. Coming close to Harry, he raised a hand towards his face. Instinctively, Harry winced, anticipating a slap; instead, however, the man merely removed his glasses, folding them and placing them on top of Harry's clothes. At once the world was fuzzy and out of focus; Snape himself was a blurry figure.

"Every possible attempt will be made to put you at a disadvantage. The nudity" - Harry was aware of Snape's gaze, looking his body up and down as if assessing him; he tried not to think about the sort of assessment which was being made - "is one option. Your short-sightedness - physically speaking - is well known, though your mental tendency to rush foolishly into things may well be a larger disadvantage. Therefore, the very act of taking you from your wand, your clothes, your glasses is an act of aggression. It states the position clearly: you, Potter, have nothing; your enemies have everything."

"It's cold, Professor," Harry said politely, trying to distract his mind from the fact that he was standing, stark naked, in front of Snape, of all people.

"And Death Eaters will not have your comfort in mind," Snape snapped. "Now, dress and get out of my sight."

 

 

 

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"You know, of course, Potter, what any number of the Death Eaters will want from you."

"My death?" Harry suggested.

Snape looked at him dismissively. "Hardly. That will be the province of the Dark Lord. No, Potter. Any Death Eater above a certain level will want to be able to say you lay down for them, that your body was in their control as they stripped you of all pride and made you their whore."

Harry had known this was coming, what Snape would require him to do. The earlier experiences had been foreplay, in a way, Snape toughening him up for what was sure to follow. Snape smiled maliciously.

"They will want to fuck you, Potter."

 

 

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Snape had put the threat out there, but as yet he had not followed it through, for which Harry could only be thankful. He was still waiting for the pain and humiliation the man was putting him through to become explicitly sexual. He knew, and Snape knew, that it was only a matter of time: possibly the wait was, itself, intended as a form of torture.

"Clothes off, turn around and face the wall." Snape sounded bored.

Harry obeyed, but not fast enough for his master's liking, it seemed. A whip whistled through the air and came down hard on his back.

"Ow." The word was forced out of him.

"Showing weakness, Potter?"

Grimly, Harry ignored the taunt, finishing his undressing in silence and turning so that his body was flat against the wall. He felt the warmth of Snape's body as the man stood close behind him. The worst thing was the not knowing: wondering what Snape might be about to do to him this time. The feel of the whip across his bare skin was strangely relieving. Compared to the Cruciatus curse, the pain was bearable; compared to the other potential assaults, it was almost welcome. He was safe from anything worse - for today.

 

 

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"Are you a virgin, Potter?"

As always, these days, Harry was naked. He wasn't sure whether it was better or worse that he had actually got used to being nude in front of Snape; the embarrassment was, at least, less acute, but the thought that this seemed at all like normality was too horrific to consider. He said nothing. Unexpectedly, Snape grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing him back against the wall.

"I said, are you a virgin?" he hissed, his face an inch away from Harry's. "When I ask you something, Potter, I expect an answer."

The answer "none of your damn business" was the one Harry longed to give. But it wasn't even true. From the moment he'd come to Snape, asked him for this help - information of this sort was, in truth, Snape's business. He swallowed hard.

"Yes."

Snape let go of him, leaving him shivering against the cold wall. "What about the Weasley chit? Have you not had your hands all over her? Your mouth? Your cock?"

Harry froze, not only at the question but because he could also feel the icy tendrils of Legilimency probing at his mind. He was under physical, verbal and mental assault.

"No," he said, his voice sounding unnecessarily loud.

"Or is it the boy who turns you on? Your ginger haired friend?" Snape's voice was compelling, the verbal equivalent of looking at a car crash. "Six years sharing a dormitory - is that all you've shared? Or have you been in his bed, behind those curtains, learning the secrets of a male body not your own?"

"No," Harry said again.

"Perhaps it's Longbottom who does it for you? Is he better with his cock than he is with his cauldron? Does he bring you off in a steamy corner of the greenhouses?"

"No."

"Sordid liaisons with anyone who'll go down on you, anyone who will fuck you just because you're The Chosen One, just because you're Famous Harry Potter, the school celebrity?"

"No, damn it!" Despite the cold wall, Harry could feel sweat on his forehead, a reaction to the humiliation of being asked more and more questions about his sex life. "I told you, no. All right?"

Snape sat down on the side of the bed. "And I told you, Potter, that you'd need to learn to take anything that's thrown at you," he said disparagingly. "What a lot you still have to learn."

 

 

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"You are a virgin?" Snape asked again, the next time.

"Yes." Did the man really need to rub it in so much, Harry wondered.

"I see." Snape said. "If you are caught by the Death Eaters, that will no longer be the case," he said carefully.

"You amaze me," Harry muttered.

"They will not be gentle, Potter."

Was Snape trying to help, or trying to terrify him? Harry knew this - what was the point in going over the same threats over and again?

"Yeah."

Snape hesitated. "It will be easier for you if it is not your first time." His voice was strange; there was a note in it that Harry had not heard before, and could not recognise.

"Yeah," said Harry again.

"Do you understand what I am saying?" Snape asked, still in that unusual tone.

To Harry's shock, he realised it was sympathy. Sympathy - harder to deal with than all of the Professor's insults. He swallowed hard.

"Yeah," he said for a third time. "I understand."

 

 

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Harry couldn't tell Ron or Hermione what he was doing - couldn't tell them anything. Going to Snape for lessons in Occlumency had caused troubles enough; telling his friends that he was spending time with the professor in order to be beaten and humiliated was really not going to go down well. Especially as both friends were more than aware that when it came to sexual matters, Harry was an innocent - a virgin. Or, at any rate, he had been.

 

 

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It had hurt, that first time. Hurt, Harry thought ironically - his mind giving him the commonly used phrase - like buggery. And oh yeah, there might be a reason for that.

The pain hadn't really been an issue. Harry had undergone too many sorts of pain to be phased by one more. It was the fact that it was such a personal thing, striking to his very soul. When you imagined losing your virginity, you didn't anticipate it being to a hated Professor, who was fucking you for the sake of giving you an idea of your potential future humiliation at the hands of your enemies. The worst thing was, perhaps, the very gentleness of Snape - the awful knowledge that he was pitied by this man whom he had always hated.

Snape had taken a lot of time, a lot of unspeakably embarrassing time preparing Harry, though to Harry's great relief, any comments he made were in his normal, curt, tones. When Harry tensed up, it was with evident irritation that his Professor told him that he would only make it more painful. Which Harry knew, thank you so very much.

 

 

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The next time... Harry had thought that it wouldn't - couldn't - be as bad the second time. At least he had some idea of what would happen, after all.

It wasn't 'as bad'. It was several hundred times worse.

There was none of the gentleness of last time. Harry's clothes were ripped - literally, ripped - from his body. When Harry tried to protest, Snape did not even bother with his wand, humbling his victim by physically beating him until he collapsed to the floor. Harry was given no time to recover before he was pushed onto all fours, Snape's hand on the back of his neck, and forcibly entered. He screamed. Later, he would be humiliated by his surrender; now, with the blood thumping through his head, his body feeling on the point of splitting, the absolute cruelty to and disdain of Harry as a person... Even when he stopped screaming, he could hear a groaning noise; realised only later that it was emanating from himself.

Afterwards, there was blood. Unemotionally, Snape healed his wounds, allowed him to use the shower before leaving the rooms, and sent him on his way without speaking a word about what had just happened. That night, Harry dreamed of being raped, and woke with tears on his face.

 

 

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For some time afterwards, Snape did not touch him in a sexual way, for which Harry could only be grateful. He began to relax a little as he went to the lessons; began not to feel an awful, solid lump of fear in his chest and throat. Pain, he could deal with. But that, as Snape had so coolly told him, was not all the Death Eaters would want to do with him. Harry was depressed, but not surprised, when Snape told him of a new lesson he needed to learn.

"N-now, sir?" He despised himself for the slight stammer.

"Yes." Snape, as always, was impersonal. "Come here." Harry began to get up from the floor where he was kneeling. Snape stopped him with a gesture. "No. On your knees."

He must look a right idiot, Harry thought wildly, shuffling across the floor on his knees. It was cold, too, not to mention uncomfortable. He knew that he was thinking of these things to try and distract himself from what was to come. It didn't work.

"Sir?" he said, keeping the tremble out of his voice with force of will alone.

He looked up, and saw the faintest expression of disgust on Snape's face. No doubt it was better than enjoyment, but the thought of sucking off someone who would clearly prefer not to have you within several miles of him was hardly encouraging.

"Have you done this before?" Snape asked.

"No," said Harry wearily, bored of having to acknowledge his inexperience over and again.

"Be firm but careful. Remember, any pain caused by you will be returned to you tenfold by a Death Eater."

Harry swallowed hard. "Yes, sir," he said.

"Begin."

Harry extended his neck to take Professor Snape's cock into his mouth. It was heavy against his tongue, and bigger than he had anticipated. No wonder, he thought, it had hurt to have it thrust inside him. And now what? Tentatively, he licked the tip, then swirled his tongue experimentally around the shaft. Raising his eyes to see what effect it was having on Snape was a waste of time: the man looked bored, as if he was waiting for a dull task to be finished. Instead, Harry looked down again, and continued his attentions; after five minutes or so, Snape told him he could stop. He hadn't come; hadn't looked anywhere near orgasm. If he was required to perform fellatio well to stay alive, Harry thought grimly, his incipient death looked inevitable.

 

 

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There was one final lesson after that. Harry thought it had probably been the most humiliating of all. Snape had told him at the beginning of the session that penetrative sex would be part of the lesson; he had then left Harry time to think, to worry, about that before even touching him. Psychological warfare was Snape's forte, Harry thought to himself.

The psychological side of the assault was not discarded when the physical assault began. For the first time, Snape took Harry into his bedroom, sitting next to him on the side of the bed.

"Don't worry," he said, for the first time injecting a gentler note into his voice. "I won't hurt you."

Harry had taken it to be a comforting lie to begin with; in the event, it turned out to be a very uncomfortable truth. Snape ran his hands all over Harry's body, searching out erogenous zones and touching them in ways that made Harry bite his lips over a moan of pleasure rather than pain. Despite himself, Harry's cock stood erect and proud; he thought gloomily that he couldn't have made his arousal more obvious if he'd stuck a flag on it saying "TOUCH ME HERE!" Snape's fingers were soft and teasing on his erection at first; the groan which Harry had kept in earlier insisted on making its way out of his mouth this time, and, hardly realising what he was doing, he bucked his hips, thrusting his cock further into Snape's hand.

"You like that?" Snape murmured, continuing to touch and tease him.

Harry clenched his jaw against the truth. He was not going to admit it. This was Snape, this was wrong, this - "Oh god" - was unbearably good. Snape had taken his cock in a loose grip and was sliding his hand up and down it; Harry found himself utterly unable to control his breathing - unable to think of anything apart from how fantastic it felt to be touched like that, and, please, please, let Snape do it a little bit more, a little bit faster.

"Ask nicely, Potter," said Snape, a twisted smile on his face.

"No, I.... please," Harry said helplessly, tears of frustration welling in his eyes.

And Snape did something else, and before Harry could even work out what had been done, he came, his cock pulsing out a stream of semen. As he recovered himself, he couldn't meet Snape's eyes; but it seemed that Snape had not finished with him. He was using Harry's own come to coat his cock, pushing it into Harry in a smooth movement which... damn it, Harry couldn't be hard again already, but his cock was definitely beginning to perk up a little. Then Snape started moving, and there was an angle - god, there - where it was just such an incredible sensation. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, arching up against Snape in an unspoken plea.

Afterwards - once more he had been permitted to shower before leaving - Harry could not think of the lesson without feeling sick, without remembering the way he'd practically begged Snape to fuck him, without having flashbacks to how good it had been and how wantonly he had behaved. If being taken forcibly had been bad, it paled by comparison to the humiliation he suffered for having begged for it.

 

 

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They had arranged another lesson, but Harry never got to attend it.

When he was caught, it came from nowhere. One minute Harry was safe, thinking about Quidditch, the next minute brought literally to earth by a group of Death Eaters. His wand, of course, gone before he had time even to think of it. With the figures surrounding him, he discovered just how prophetic Snape's words had been. They will want to fuck you, Potter. The conversation turned not on 'what' to do to him, but who should do it. There were bids given, and for a moment it seemed as if he would be whored out to the highest bidder. Voices were raised as arguments broke out, with Death Eaters claiming precedence on various grounds. At last, Bellatrix Lestrange (not wearing a mask; the other Death Eaters might wear them, but it seemed Bella disdained such cowardice) forced silence with a short burst of magic. They turned to her, Harry perforce doing the same.

"Well?" she asked, her smile mocking as she pulled Harry to her. "Who wants him?"

There was again a deafening burst of sound as everyone stated their claims. Bella, however, laughed - looking at one particular Death Eater who stood, silent, on the fringes of the group.

"Any or all of you?" she demanded. "That might perhaps be interesting: a group affair. But no. I have a better idea. I know just the man."

Harry was pushed towards the black-masked figure on the edge of the set. As the other Death Eaters retreated sulkily, the man took off his mask, a grim smile on his face.

" _Now_ , Potter..." said Severus Snape.

* * *


End file.
